


fever dream

by becuille



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Age Difference, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, Id Fic, M/M, Sex Pollen, go straight to hell do not pass go do not collect $200, im disgusting, no infinity war spoilers, this happened because peter called tony sir in infinity war………
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 17:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becuille/pseuds/becuille
Summary: “Uh. Mr. Stark?” Peter calls out. His vision is blurred and the room is spinning, like that time when he was 13 and threw up on the Cyclone and Ned laughed so hard at him he nearly got sick too. “I don’t feel so great?”





	fever dream

**Author's Note:**

> edit: please read the tag warnings lol. have kids these days never read a sex pollen fic before?

Tony Stark’s car arrives to pick him up at 9am Saturday morning and Peter can’t sit still with excitement the whole car journey.

Peter takes a photo of the Avengers sign as they get to the compound, then one of himself with it pulling his I’m a Serious Superhero That Isn’t Taking This Experience for Granted face. He takes a quick one of the back of Tony’s head when he catches sight of him and sends them all to Ned, who texts back in seconds. 

_I want your life_ , and then _If I turned up wearing your suit do you think Iron Man would notice?_ Peter switches off his phone then. He’s already been grilled by Happy; no livetexting the top secret and confidential science experiments.

“Come with me,” Tony says once Peter announces his presence with an awkward cough. 

Peter has to pinch himself. This place has got to be what heaven is like, he feels like the luckiest kid alive. He’s so grateful Mr. Stark likes him, or puts up with him, or sees him as his protege. Or whatever it is he does in his own prickly way. 

“House rules. You touch it, you pay for it. How do you fancy being in crushing debt at 15, kid?”

“I’m 17, and I get it. Look with my eyes, not my hands. What’s this?”

“Cosmitron cannon, it’s a work in progress.

“Cooool. What does this do?”

Peter presses a button and something that looks like a giant shrink ray or something whirs, not a good whir, a deep rumbling one. The room starts to vibrate a little. Tony swats at his hand then turns it off. 

Tony starts rattling off about how Pepper can come down and give him a safety induction or something if he needs to and Peter zones out. He picks up a piece of sparkly rock. Space rock he hopes, that would be pretty neat. Maybe it’ll prove the existence of life on Mars, or something. 

Then the weird glowy rock falls to pieces in his hands and the centre releases a cloud of purple dust.

“Crap,” Peter whispers to himself, glancing over at Tony. He isn’t paying him much attention. He’s delivering what Peter’s sure would be an insightful lecture, years ahead of his current high school education, if he weren’t busy wrecking the place. He tries piecing it back together to no avail, but that only lets out more of the dust. Peter coughs and covers his mouth when he inadvertently breathes it in. It doesn’t taste particularly like space dirt, whatever that probably tastes like. It’s maybe even pleasant, a little sweet. 

He’s about to give up on putting it back together and leaving it for Tony to find when he’s safely back at home where he can’t be yelled at and banned from coming into his lab forever, when it slips out of his hands anyway. It falls to the floor and crumbles to soot.

He curses himself. He was doing so well, Tony was even talking about letting him input on designs for his suit soon. Not after this. Peter pulls at the neck of his t-shirt. Tony must keep the air-con pretty tropical in here, he feels hot all of a sudden.

“Uh. Mr. Stark?” Peter calls out. His vision is blurred and the room is spinning, like that time when he was 13 and threw up on the Cyclone and Ned laughed so hard at him he nearly got sick too. “I don’t feel so great?”

Peter has erupted in hives or something down his arms and his face is flushed. He heaves in short and shallow breaths and stoops over to try and extend his chest and get in more air.

“Hey, what did you touch? What did I tell you?” 

“I didn’t mean to, I- The rock, the alien thing.”

He grabs onto a table to keep himself upright. Something isn’t right. 

“Don’t they teach lab safety at that school of yours? Don’t lick stuff, don’t eat stuff. Sit down and let me scan you.”

“I breathed it in, the dust, I’m sorry.” Peter nods to the mess on the floor.

“Oh for Christ’s sake. We’ll have to quarantine you until we know what this is.”

“No! Don’t leave me.” He panics. “I need-” Peter reaches out for a desperate grab of Tony’s hand and it’s like dousing the fire burning across his clammy skin. He can’t help clinging to his arm, hiking up the sleeve of his shirt, then rubs his face into the bare crook of Tony’s neck. It’s like rolling an ice cold water bottle across his head on a hundred degree day. Peter groans. It feels good and his stomach lurches at the sensation.

“Jesus, kid, your temp is at 103. Stay still.”

He can’t stay still. His dick is so hard it hurts, and every little scrape of his jeans against it feels _so good_ , so he wriggles on the spot, groaning. He grinds the palm of his hand into his crotch, hoping to god Tony isn’t paying him enough attention.

“You’re not giving off any spores, there’s nothing else except-” 

Tony lowers his scanner, going silent. Oh god, he must have noticed, how could he not? If his face could get any redder from humiliation he’s sure it would. Tony shrugs him off his arm like an unruly little puppy who humps your leg when you come through the door. Every cell in Peter’s body screams at him to latch onto him again, to soothe his fever.

“I’m not doing this, no.” Tony takes a step back further away from him. “Where does your girlfriend live, or whatever. I’ll give you a ride but that’s about all I’m doing.”

It hurts now, really hurts, and Peter blinks back tears. 

“There’s no one,” Peter pants, getting desperate. “Just you, sir.” He’s said it now. He might as well tell him that he was jerking off thinking about him last night, for what it’s worth. That he thought about getting on his knees for him, about Tony telling him how good he is. “ _Please_ , help me. I need...” He can’t even bring himself to say what he needs. He feels like a child.

Something on Tony’s scanner starts to beep. Peter thinks he could be getting hotter. He’s so hot he feels cold and he shivers all over.

“Mr. Stark, make it stop, please, sir.” His voice is shaky and pathetic. 

Then Tony’s hands are grabbing onto his arms, and he backs him up and sits him down on a bench. Peter looks up at him, his eyes wide and dark and spilling over with hot tears.

“Take off your shirt. Come on, quick.”

Peter scrambles to do as he’s told, then Tony’s putting his hands over his bare chest. The urgent beeping from the medical scanner stops.

“Oh god.”

It feels so good, Peter tips his head back. But it’s a double edged blade; the more Tony touches him, the more he needs, and it quickly becomes not enough. Peter tugs weakly on his arm trying to coax him down. He tries to kiss him, but Tony pulls back. He pulls himself closer anyway, pressing a wet, opened mouthed kiss to Tony’s neck. Tony actually flinches.

“I need more, I’m sorry, please.”

“Okay.”

That’s all he needs and Peter is pulling off his jeans and his boxers. His dick strains against his stomach, leaking precome, and, _yes_ , he jolts as Tony takes hold of him, jerking him slow and hesitant. Maybe he’s weighing up leaving him like this, like it might be worth letting him die instead of doing something this gross.

Peter’s never done this before. No one’s ever touched him like this, and this isn’t how he wanted it to happen, but he spreads his legs and bucks up into Tony’s hand without thinking about it.

“God it’s so good, Mr. Stark.” 

He doesn’t remember ever feeling this euphoric, never with himself, alone, banging his elbows on the frame of his bunk bed when he gets himself off quick and silent. His head spins and he moans every time Tony’s hand runs over the head of his cock. Tony’s other hand soothes his head. He runs his fingers through Peter’s sweat drenched hair, sweeping it out of his face and down his cheek, and Peter keens up into his palm. 

He reaches for Tony’s belt, wanting to make Tony feel as good as he does. He wants him in him somehow, to cool and soothe him from the inside out, but Tony pushes him off.

“No.”

Instead Tony jerks him off almost mechanically, gripping onto him tight and jerking him quick and uncaring. He probably wants to get this over with and get him out of his sight. Peter’s whole body spasms at his touch, over-sensitive, and all he can do is take it and ride this out.

Peter comes so quickly, all over himself and Tony’s hand. He almost shouts as he comes, his voice cracking and he sees stars behind his eyes he scrunches them up so hard. Tony lets go of him, and when he doesn’t start shaking at the loss of Tony’s touch, he scans him over one more time. Whatever came over him appears to be sated, his body is no longer blotchy and red, and he can feel his blood rapidly cooling down. 

“There’s no sign of it in your system, whatever it was looks like it’s gone now. Clean yourself up.”

Tony leaves him there then. Slowly, Peter gets back his breath and shame creeps up on him. He pulls his shirt back on that’s now cold with his sweat and pulls up his jeans.

He finds Tony waiting for him in his car, shades on and face unreadable. He doesn’t say a word on the ride back to Queens. He takes one last look at the Avengers compound; he doesn’t think he’ll be coming back for a while.

  


* * *

  


“Peter?” May comes rushing to him when he lets himself in, checking him over. He must still look a mess. “What happened? What did you do?” 

“It’s nothing, I promise, I-”

“It’s all my fault,” Tony cuts him off, his voice cold. “He’s clearly too young to be in my lab. It won’t happen again.”

May’s yelling at him, and at Tony, but he’s too exhausted.

“I’m sorry, May, can this wait until the morning? I just need to go sleep.”

She lets him, so yep, he definitely looks like death. He doesn’t look back at Tony as he shuts his door behind him.

  


* * *

  


In the morning, Peter wakes up with a blaring headache and his phone vibrating under his pillow. He blinks blearily at the screen before answering. 

“Happy?” he croaks. 

“Mr Stark wants to see you and I’m parked on double yellows out here. I’m charging you the ticket if you don’t hurry up.”

He throws on a clean shirt and scrubs at his teeth, kissing May goodbye on his way out. Maybe Tony wants to just forget about yesterday and move on. Maybe he doesn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr](http://tailtiu.tumblr.com/) for more of this filth


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